


Emptied Out

by jujus_writing_corner



Series: Whumptober 2019 [23]
Category: Real Person Fiction, Youtube RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood, Character Death, Dark pretends he doesn't care but he does, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 14:43:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21147431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujus_writing_corner/pseuds/jujus_writing_corner
Summary: Wilford stumbles into Dark's office covered in his own blood. Despite Dark's best efforts, the blood won't stop flowing.Whumptober Day 23: Bleeding Out





	Emptied Out

**Author's Note:**

> Wilford has the self-preservation instincts of a lemming halfway over a cliff, so this kinda thing happens not infrequently owo"
> 
> Enjoy!

It’s a normal night for Darkiplier. He’s still in his office working, of course, but the building is calm and quiet, and many of the egos have gone to bed. There’s not much traffic noise from outside, and the night feels peaceful.

Of course, Ego Inc. never stays peaceful for long, and that peace is shattered when Wilford poofs into Dark’s office.

“Wil–” Dark starts, planning to yell at him, but halts once he looks up.

Wilford’s covered in blood, most of it clearly from a deep stab wound in his chest. His skin is pale, and he manages a shaky, sheepish grin.

“Evenin’, Darky,” he says, then coughs, sending blood spraying. He collapses, but Dark has already teleported beside him to catch him.

“What the hell did you do this time??” Dark demands, pressing down on the gash in Wilford’s chest. Wilford groans at the pressure.

“Jus’ a night on the town, ya know…” Wilford gasps, “It was an–”

“An accident,” Dark interrupts testily, “I know, Wilford. It always is.” He pushes down harder on Wilford, trying to ignore the heavy warmth of Wilford’s blood pouring around and through his fingers. “Remind me why you’re here and not in the clinic?”

“No time,” Wilford says, and Dark hates to admit he’s got a point. It doesn’t seem to matter how hard Dark presses down; blood keeps flowing, staining his hands, and judging by Wilford’s bloody coughs, he’s already lost a lung to his injury. It’s likely that Dr. Iplier would tell him that Wilford’s on his way out.

“You’ll have to go there later, anyway,” Dark huffs, “If you don’t want another keloid scar.”

“Ugh,” Wilford mutters, annoyance flitting through his pale face. “Hate those.” He coughs. “What a bother, I h-had plans tomorrow…”

“I’m aware,” Dark says, trying to ignore Wilford’s sudden shivering, “I’m the one you made plans with, if you recall.” Wilford had pestered Dark into agreeing to getting lunch together, “like old times” he’d said.

“Oh, right,” Wilford wheezes, “G-Guess we’ll have to reschedule.”

Moments pass as Wilford continues to bleed. Dark can feel it soaking the knees of his pants. He can’t find it in himself to be annoyed by it.

“Yandere is going to be pissed at you tomorrow,” Dark mutters.

“Yeah,” Wilford agrees. He tries for an embarrassed grin. “Give him my apologies, w-would you?”

“Fine,” Dark sighs.

Of course, Dark knows Yandere won’t be mad. He’ll be devastated, and Dark anticipates spending most of tomorrow comforting him and reassuring him that Wilford will come back. He suspects Wilford knows that, too, judging by the sudden soft look in his eyes.

Or maybe that’s just his eyes beginning to cloud over. The bleeding is slowing down, but Dark suspects it’s because Wilford’s running out of blood to lose. His skin is cold now, nearly white, and his shivering is getting worse.

“You’re an idiot, you understand that?” Dark snaps, suddenly angry.

“Aww, d-don’t be mean, Darky,” Wilford whines, “I’ll b-be back soon.”

“I know,” Dark sighs.

A pause. Wilford’s struggling to keep his eyes open. A part of Dark wonders why he doesn’t just let go, and a part of him already knows why.

“Rest, Wilford,” Dark finally says. He clasps Wilford’s arm, and Wilford holds on in return, though his grip is weak and shaky.

“Sorry about the mess, old friend,” Wilford whispers with a smile. His teeth are red with the blood he’s coughed up.

“It’s alright, Wil,” Dark murmurs, squeezing his arm.

Wilford keeps smiling for another long moment, until he finally goes limp and his face relaxes. His eyes finish clouding over as his hand drops away from Dark’s arm. Dark closes Wilford’s eyes with a long and long-suffering sigh.

The night is peaceful and quiet once more, but there’s a different timbre to it this time.

**Author's Note:**

> ;w;
> 
> Don't be too sad; Wilf'll wake up in a couple days and Dark will gripe at him for getting blood all over his office carpet, but it'll be obvious that he missed Wil and is glad he's okay. Meanwhile, Yan will yell at him for leaving and cry in his lap for half an hour. Just your average Tuesday at Ego Inc :p


End file.
